


Peter Parker Has Some Problems

by terribleshipsandsadshit



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Eating Disorders, M/M, Trans Male Character, Trans Peter Parker, all of my fanfiction is pure self-indulgent trash, can i get an F in the comments, i give peter my brain, rip him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 18:37:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18744784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terribleshipsandsadshit/pseuds/terribleshipsandsadshit
Summary: Peter doesn't have an eating disorder. He really, really doesn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lol this is basically how I am except I never get skinny enough so drop a comment down below if you think I have uhhhh Issues.

Peter has some problems with eating.  
It's usually not too bad. It's manageable. He just...has this VISION of himself that's different from what he sees in the mirror. The Ideal Peter is skinnier, he's leaner and sharper and his hipbones are jagged, jutting edges. He looks good in too-big hoodies because he's so fucking skinny that they're cute on him, his jawline is sharp, and his spine sticks out of his back delicately. His chest and hips are nonexistent, his stomach is perfectly flat. The Ideal Peter is just that - ideal.  
Peter doesn't have an eating disorder. Not really. He just has a vision of what he'd really like to be, and maybe that vision is a little bit unhealthy, but so what? He doesn't...not eat. He eats, it just comes and goes. One week he's obsessively counting calories (never over 500) and crying over his thighs and stomach, the next week he's eating normally. So he doesn't have an eating disorder. He's just...weird? He doesn't know what he is. He doesn't like to dwell on it - except he does. He does, and he does, and he does. He scrolls hungrily through pictures of skinny boys, eating up their concave stomachs and bruised legs and sharp hipbones.  
_Finally reached 115!_ one of the captions reads. Peter can't even imagine being that perfect, that fucking skinny. He's 135, and 140 on a bad day. Peter just wants to be skinny. It's all he's ever wanted, really.  
May never catches on. He thinks Ned might have, a while back when he was in one of his 2 or 3 week phases of counting calories and starving. They were sitting together at lunch (like usual) and for the third day in a row Peter was sipping diet soda, laughing and chatting and absolutely not eating.  
"Peter? Are you going to eat?" Ned had looked at him, worried, before lowering his voice and saying, "Do you not have money today?"  
Peter fumbled for an answer, awkwardly stammering out something about saving his money to get a snack before patrol, and how he's not even that hungry but he knows he'll be hungry later and it's really better if he eats before he goes out. Ned had accepted his excuse with a frown and a tentative nod. Ned had also insisted on coming with him after school to get a snack, and watched Peter eat out of the corner of his eye. So, Ned might know.  
MJ definitely knows, because MJ knows everything. She saw him wrapping his thumb and forefinger around his wrist once and squinted at him, eyes narrowed. She'd pushed her extra fruit cup at him during lunch later.  
Tony didn't - well, hadn't - known, until his junior year of high school when he was in his longest starving phase ever. It had been 4 months. 4 months of counted calories, daily weigh-ins, obsessively wrapping his hands around his wrists and arms and thighs because _he just has to check._ He walks into the lab, and Tony just...looks at him. _Really_ looks.  
"What?" Peter says nervously, throat tight.  
"Have you lost weight?" Tony narrows his eyes at him, scrutinizing his skinny frame.  
And - yeah, Peter knows this is sick, that he's sick, but hearing that makes his heart swell with pride and joy. He's closer to looking skinny, to looking perfect and male and concave.  
"I dunno." Peter answers, breezing past Tony and setting his bag down on the workshop table. Tony's eyes follow him.  
"Peter," Tony starts, "I think we need to...to talk. About this."  
"About what?" Peter says innocently, rolling up his sleeves and examining the little robot he'd been working on last week. His wrists are frail, the bones protruding horribly.  
"Peter." Tony's voice is suddenly firm and sure of itself. "Look at me."  
Peter turns reluctantly.  
"Have you been eating?"  
"Yeah, of course." Peter says. It's not really a lie, is it? He _has_ been eating, just...not a lot.  
"Is this a money thing? Are you and May going through a rough patch again? She switch jobs?"  
Peter shook his head.  
"What's going on, kiddo? You gotta talk to me. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong." Tony's eyes are so soft and earnest, and he's gripping Peter's shoulder so gently that Peter almost starts to feel guilty for lying.  
"Nothing's going on."  
"You can't be serious right now! You look like you're down about 15 pounds! God, Peter, you look like a skeleton! You look sick!" Tony snapped, his voice fearful, concerned. Peter felt something inside of him snap, and all the anger and hunger and frustration spilled out. He shoved Tony backwards, suddenly furious.  
"Yeah, and I could stand to be down about 10 more pounds! 20, even! I'm fine! Just shut up! I don't need you acting like you care all of a sudden! I've been doing this for years and I always end up failing, I always end up gaining back the weight. I'm fine! I was fat before-" Peter's voice wavered, trembling. Tony stared at him, horrified.  
"Peter-"  
"I think I should go." Peter grabbed his bag, throwing it over his shoulder angrily.  
"Peter, please don't-"  
"I'm sorry for yelling. Let's forget about this. I'll see you next week."  
And Peter leaves. 

Tony calls. And texts.  
Peter doesn't pick up, doesn't reply - he really, really, really just doesn't want to hear it. He sticks to an even stricter diet for most of next week; 500 calories a day, and he only drinks water and green tea. He feels so successful and so good and so clean and so empty.  
Ned watches him even more nervously, MJ scowls at him more than usual.  
He's pretty sure he's in the clear until - until Thursday, when he comes home to find May sitting on the couch, hands folded together in her lap and leg bouncing nervously.  
"You're early?" Peter says, confused. "Everything okay at work?"  
May looks up at him so sadly, so lost, and pats the couch cushion beside her.  
"Come here, baby."  
Peter sets his backpack down and sits next to her, eyes worried. She takes his hands.  
"What's wrong?"  
"Peter...Tony called me. He said that -"  
Peter ripped his hands away angrily, turning away from her.  
"Peter!" she exclaimed, shocked by his sudden and un-Peterlike rudeness.  
"He's a liar and he doesn't know what he's even talking about!" Peter snapped.  
_I think it's pretty bad, May. I've never seen him so angry before._  
_I mean, I just didn't even know what to do._  
_He looked so fucking skinny._  
Peter stood up abruptly and stormed out, the slam of his door echoing down the hallway. May pulled out her phone.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ and Ned confront Peter. It goes about as well as you'd expect. An old enemy cheers him up, sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter babey lmao. I bet u can't predict what's gonna happen I really switched it up on ya, really pulled a lil sneaky on ya. Enjoy.

Peter left early the next morning, a green-tea-filled thermos and an apple in hand. He didn't want to see May - not after last night. He checked his face in subway window - _still round, still soft, still feminine_ \- cringing. God, he looked horrible. How did he still look so fat? 

Tony texted him during first period - _Come by lab after school. Not optional._ \- and Peter tucked his phone into his bag resentfully. No way. 

"Peter?" Ned's voice was quiet, hesitant. "MJ and I...are worried about you."   
_You've gotta be fucking kidding me._   
"You look like shit." MJ said flatly.   
"Gee, thanks."  
"No, like, you look really, really fucking unhealthy, Peter. You look sick."   
"You look like you haven't been eating." Ned added softly.   
"I do eat!"   
"Do you?" MJ challenged, eyes narrowed. "What do you eat? Apples? Celery? Anything that keeps you beneath some obscenely low calorie limit? What are you eating right now, Peter?"   
Peter stared at the cafeteria table resolutely.   
"Exactly. Peter, we care about you, and you need to get hel-"  
"I don't _need_ to do anything!" Peter snapped. "I don't have a fucking problem!"   
"Jesus christ, Peter, look at yourself!" Ned said, eyes wide, gesturing at Peter's thin, skeletal form. "We just want you to be okay!"   
Peter's phone went off.   
_Will be out front after school. Same car._   
He couldn't take it. Why was everyone trying to fucking RUIN all of his progress? It was so so so fucking not fair and who the fuck are they to tell him how to fucking live his life and -   
"My mom knows a really great therapist, I'm sure she could -"  
"Will you just shut the fuck up?" Peter snarled.   
Ned gaped at him, speechless, taken aback, and Peter stormed out of the cafeteria.   
"Let him go." MJ said quietly. "Clearly, it's worse than we thought. I don't think we're enough to help him at this point."

Peter was in an even fouler mood by the time school ended. 5th and 6th period fucking sucked, he felt nauseous, he was getting a headache, and he still (apparently) had to go to the Compound with Mr. Stark to "talk".   
He was so busy stewing in all of this, standing at his locker, that he didn't even notice Flash.   
"Hey, Parker."   
Peter jumped, slamming his locker door shut to see Flash leaning against the wall, arms crossed, face neutral.   
Why was Flash talking to him? Flash had mostly taken to ignoring him this year. Peter assumed he'd finally gotten bored.   
"What do you want?"  
"Wanna...uh, hang out?" A sliver of nervousness peeked through Flash's neutral expression, his fingers tapping anxiously on one arm.   
_What the fuck?_  
"What?"  
"You. Me. Hang out. Today. Now. Do you want to?"   
Peter was so taken aback by the offer that all he could do was gape at Flash disbelievingly.   
_Pros: avoid Tony and May, hide from everyone for a while?_  
 _Cons: Flash_   
"Yeah...uh, okay." Peter said hesitantly, eyeing Flash suspiciously.   
"Cool. My car's in the front lot." 

"Tony? What's wrong? Talk with Peter go bad?"   
Tony sighed into the phone, pinching his nose.   
"He didn't show up."   
May also sighed, equally frustrated.  
"How are we supposed to help him if he won't even talk to us?" May whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.   
"We'll figure it out, May. Peter's a good kid. Maybe we're doing too much too soon."

Flash's car was unsurprisingly nice - sleek and black, all leather seats and shiny windows.   
"So, what are we gonna...do?" Peter asked awkwardly.   
"Are you hungry? We could -"  
"No!" Peter exclaimed, a little too suddenly, a little too forcefully. "I mean, I ate a lot at lunch, so. No thank you."   
"No you didn't." Flash looked sideways at him.   
Peter's mouth opened, and, embarrassed and unable to think of a reply, closed.   
"It's fine, Parker. We can do something else. Let's go to the park. We can go for a walk, smoke some weed or something."  
 _Flash smokes weed?_

Flash took a back road, up a hill, and parked in a dusty lot overlooking the forest. He rolled a joint expertly, tight and clean.   
"This is your first time." It's not a question. Flash _knows_ Peter, as much as he likes to pretend he doesn't care.  
"Y-yeah." Peter said, nervous.  
"It's easy. Just inhale, and then inhale again to sorta...suck it into your lungs. Then hold it for a second before exhaling. I'll go first."  
Flash lit the joint and inhaled, holding it for a moment before exhaling thick, white, earthy smoke.   
"Here."   
He handed it to Peter.   
Peter sucked gently for a second before yanking it out of his mouth and coughing harshly.   
"Tastes gross." he said weakly, eyes watering.   
"It's okay, try again. I did the same thing my first time." Flash said quietly, taking a hit before handing it back to Peter.   
Peter inhaled more confidently this time, now expecting the taste, held it, and exhaled slowly.  
They passed the joint back and forth (Flash had put on some soft music at one point - _the first time that you kissed me, boundless by the time I cried_ \- a sweet, lonely type of music that Peter never pictured Flash listening to) until it was a black, burning stub.   
Peter coughed, once, harshly, the smoke in his lungs not mixing well with 9 hours of binding. He tugged at the bottom of his binder, pulling at it for a moment so he could breathe better.   
"Should you have been smoking while wearing that, Parker?" Flash asked, arms folded behind his head, seat reclined.   
"It's fine." he said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to ignore the painful throbbing in his sternum.   
"I don't mind if you need to take it off, Peter. I won't look." Flash closed his eyes.  
 _And when did he become "Peter" instead of "Parker"?_  
"It's okay. I'm good. T-thanks. Though."  
Everything felt smoother, better. A little hazy, but - lighter and more free.   
"Why'd you wanna hang out?" Peter asked, reclining his seat like Flash's and turning to face him with wide eyes.   
"Mmm." Flash looked at him. He was high and floating, his feelings looser and easier to express. "Just...you look so sad, lately. Don't want you t'be sad. Want you to be happy, like old Peter, my Pete-" he cut himself off, face flushing suddenly.   
Peter stared at him quizzically, as though he was a particularly difficult physics problem, or some nonsense Virginia Woolf metaphor that he just didn't get.   
"Flash, do you...do you, uh...?" Peter trailed off uncertainly, not sure what to say.  
And Flash turned back to him, bright red, and suddenly Peter was struck with a sense of fondness - of immense _affection_ and _like_. All of Flash's teasing, his metaphorical pigtail-pulling...the way he'd complained about having to share a room with Peter on the last decathlon trip (Ned hadn't been able to come - sick.) but had seemed to be in the room whenever Peter was, sometimes shirtless for seemingly no reason. The way he jolted away whenever their hands brushed against each other in Chemistry last year, behavior that Peter had mistaken for disgust and dislike. Flash, who brought him his homework when he got the flu in December. Flash, who was sitting across from him, bright red, smelling like smoke and Old Spice and -   
"Fuck, Parker, I just, you're so -" and Flash leaned forward suddenly, pressing his lips softly to Peter's, a hand threading through his hair gently.   
A new song was playing - Peter thinks it says something like _I don't wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope u liked. Sadness and angst will return in the next chapter, but I got the urge to give our boy a little bit of cuteness so I did.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flash knows more than he lets on. He's pretty sweet about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter. just wanted to write more flash tbh

Peter melted into the kiss. It's soon - it's so soon, but he and Flash have known each other for _years_ and Flash was soft and warm and his fingers scratched lightly at Peter's scalp in a way that made him moan into his mouth.  
Flash pulled back, panting slightly, lips slick and face flushed.  
"Are you - is this okay?"  
"Yeah, yeah, yes," Peter nodded breathlessly before leaning forward again.  
Flash's hand hovered at the hem of Peter's sweater as their lips moved together softly, fingertips slipping under hesitantly, then the rest of his hand, palm pressing warmly against Peter's abdomen and his - his ribs. (Peter, still high, still caught up in FlashFlashFlash, lets him. Doesn't react beyond a pleased hum at the sudden heat pressing into his skin.)  
Flash pulled back again, worried this time.  
"Peter, is that...jesus, I could practically count your ribs. I didn't...it's one thing to see it but to feel it...fuck, Parker, it feels like I could snap you in half." he said quietly.  
Peter's lips met his again, pink and distracting.  
"I just lost some weight s'all." Peter mumbled into his mouth.  
Flash pushed him off.  
"I'm not stupid, Peter. You've been doing this for years. Since we were in middle school, even. I never said anything because it...it never got this bad."  
Peter felt sick, suddenly. Flash had known all this time? Flash had known - had watched him drink diet soda instead of eating in 7th grade, had watched him munch on celery sticks freshman year, had known what it meant when he skipped decathlon team dinners...Flash had known for years.  
"You knew?" Peter's voice cracked.  
"Course I knew. We've been going to school together for years." Flash said, turning to face the forest their parking lot overlooked.  
"Ned's been going to school with us just as long, and he had no idea." Peter said accusingly.  
"Well Ned doesn't know you like I do!" Flash snapped.  
"I -"  
Peter's phone went off, sudden and loud.  
"Fuck, it's - I should probably take this." Peter said guiltily.  
"Peter?"  
"Hi, Mr. Stark."  
"Where the hell are you? We had a meeting. A talk - we were going to talk."  
"Look, I - something came...up?"  
"Did something come up, or did you make something come up."  
Peter is silent.  
"Yeah, that's what I thought. May is worried sick. She cried on the phone with me, kiddo. You can't...you can't just disappear like this, Pete. Go home, please. Talk to May. And if you're up for it, tomorrow, come by. We don't even have to talk about it. I just want to - to spend some time with you, kiddo." Tony's voice wavered dangerously and he sniffed.  
"Okay." Peter whispered. "Okay, I'll. I'll go home. I'm sorry."  
"Be safe. I hope I see you tomorrow."  
Flash stared at him, wide-eyed.  
"That was - that was Tony Stark."  
"Yeah." Peter said, voice small and raspy. His breath hitched suddenly, like he might cry.  
" _Peter_." Flash rested a hand on his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles for a moment, before pulling him into a hug.  
"I just don't know what to do." Peter sobbed, face buried in Flash's neck. "I've worried so many people and let so many people down and - and everyone wants me to get better but I don't want to! I look good! I look - I look so much better like this, and I don't -" Peter trailed off, crying loudly.  
"I'll drive you home." Flash whispered, holding him close. "It'll be okay, Peter. You don't have to get better overnight. No one expects that." 

Flash dropped him off at his apartment with a, "See you tomorrow, Parker. Text me or something." and Peter climbed the stairs slowly, reluctantly. He paused in front of the door before knocking lightly.  
The door flung open immediately, and May yanked him into a tight, desperate hug.  
"I was so worried, baby." she whispered, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "Please don't do that to me."  
"I'm sorry." he croaked.  
"It's okay, just...just don't do that again, okay? You need some time away, that's fine. But I'd like to at least - at least get a call, or a text."  
"Okay."  
She rubbed his back, fingers tracing his knobby, sharp spine.  
"Are we going to talk about this?" she asked gently. "Or is it too much for you right now?"  
"It's okay." Peter whispered. "We should. We should talk."  
And so, with slumped shoulders and wet eyes, Peter told her about the on and off addiction he'd had since he was young, about the endless fantasies of _skinnythinmaleperfectconcaveweightless_ , about how he usually only lasts a couple weeks but this time was different - this time it stuck. 

Ned was standing by his locker when he got to school the next day.  
"I'm -" he started, but Peter cut him off quickly.  
"I'm sorry. For getting so angry yesterday. I know you guys were just trying to help." Ned nodded.  
"I'm sorry for...for springing it on you like that." Ned said, eyes wide and earnest.  
"We're good, man. Seriously."  
And, just as Ned was giving Peter a (manly) hug, Flash sauntered by, all cool confidence and poise, and shot Peter a grin and a wink. Peter went bright red, immediately.  
"What was _that_ about?" Ned asked, baffled.  
"FlashandIkissed." Peter mumbled.  
"I'm - _what_?"  
"Flash and I...um...kissed." Peter repeated, still bright red.  
"So are you - are you dating?"  
"I don't really...know? I don't think so?"  
"So you randomly kissed, for no reason, and you're not dating. Why were you even with him? What -"  
"We just. We hung out, and smoked some...some weed, and things just...happened?"  
" _You_ smoked weed?"  
Peter groaned, his head thunking against his locker door.  
"And he just kissed you?"  
"Well, he - I think he's liked me for a while." Peter admitted reluctantly. He remembered the song Flash had played - _I don't wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips._ \- and smiled softly, chest feeling full and warm.

Flash waved them over at lunch. Peter and Ned sat down nervously, eyeing Flash's friends like they might start throwing things at them or something.  
"God, _finally_." a blonde girl sitting across from them said, rolling her eyes.  
"Shut up." Flash snapped.  
Peter unscrewed his thermos, the smell of green tea and honey wafting out, thin fingers wrapped tightly around it. Flash eyed him for a moment, before pulling a brown paper bag out of his backpack and setting it by Peter. No one noticed - too distracted by talking and eating, enjoying their 55 minutes of freedom.  
Peter opened it hesitantly.  
A bag of carrot and cucumber slices. Another one with apple. Two plain rice cakes. A small container of peanut butter. Peter stared into the bag, his throat closing up painfully.  
"I know it looks like a lot, but everything in there combined is only 360, and, like, at least 180 of those calories is probably just from the peanut butter."  
And then Flash started talking to the boy next to him (James, maybe?) like everything was normal, like he hadn't just set a very considerate bag of food that he'd prepared in front of Peter.  
Peter pulled out the bag of carrot and cucumber, and Flash's hand found his beneath the table as he ate, slowly making his way through the bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry. there will b more angst. just bc peter is eating doesn't mean he's healthy lmao. isn't flash considerate? im cry tbh. i love my flash.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter spends the weekend with Tony, and with Flash. He and May have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter, more flash bcs i love this pairing rn. there is a mild sexual scene in this chapter, but it's not very graphic, and it doesn't go very far. enjoy.

Peter spent Friday and Saturday night with Tony, watching movies and tinkering in the lab and sparring. Tony had managed to coax a few meals into him over the weekend ( _I'll order from your favorite Thai place, Pete?_ ) and he really wasn't feeling too bad.   
He finally went patrolling again on Sunday - it'd been nearly a week and a half - and right as he got back, a text came through.   
"Text from 'Flash heart emoji'!" Karen chirped.   
"T-thanks, Karen."  
Peter's face burned as he pulled his mask off.   
_Wanna come over tonight?_  
May would be back from work in about a half-hour.   
_Maybe. Have to see if May can take me._   
A ding.   
_I could just come get you, dork._  
Some time with Flash sounded...really nice, actually. Peter texted May ( _Going 2 a friend's for a bit! See u later :)_ ) and then Flash ( _okay!_ ) before frantically turning to stare into his closet. What should he wear?   
Peter slapped the spider emblem on his chest and shed the suit quicky, pulling on a pair of tight jeans that he didn't wear very often. Maybe...a sweater? He had a dark green one and a soft blue one - both from Tony. He pulled the blue one over his head and spun around to look in the mirror contemplatively. Did his legs look big in these jeans? Could you - was his binder showing?   
His phone buzzed loudly and suddenly, and he fumbled with it for a moment before answering the call.   
"Hey, Parker. I'm outside."  
"O-okay. I'll be - just - I need a second. I'll be out in a second." Peter stuttered.   
He looked in the mirror one last time. His binder was covered, he looked flat, his hips didn't look nauseatingly wide. This would have to do. 

Flash grinned at him from the driver's seat when he opened the door.   
"Cute sweater, Parker."   
"T-thanks." Peter said, blushing. "So, um, are we going to...to your house?"   
"Yup." Flash said as he started the car. "My parents, as usual, are out of town. We'll have the place to ourselves." 

Flash's house was...big. Like, _big_ , and nice.   
"Hey, want a soda?" Flash asked as he rifled through the fridge. He glanced over his shoulder. "We, uh, we have diet, too. If you want."   
"Sure." Peter said. "Um, I'll have a Diet Coke."   
Flash looked like he was going to toss it to him, paused, and then walked around the kitchen island to hand it to him.  
"Thanks."   
"Wanna watch a movie?" Flash quirked an eyebrow.  
 _Cute,_ Peter thought, face warm. 

The couch was big. Peter wasn't really sure how close he was supposed to sit, so he settled for a solid 4 inches away, legs and socked feet tucked up under him.   
"Geez, Parker, I don't bite." Flash joked, scooting closer a bit hesitantly. Their shoulders pressed together.   
_I don't wanna be your friend._  
Why did Peter feel so shy, now that they were at Flash's house, alone? They'd known each other for years, had held hands, I mean, god, they'd kissed! And yet - Peter felt so wrong-footed, so nervous. What if he messed up? What if he said something stupid, and Flash stopped liking him?   
Peter stewed in anxiety and worry for about half of the movie, trying desperately to seem calm on the outside. Was he acting weird? He had no idea what they were watching, or what it was about; all he could think about was Flash.  
And then, slowly, like Peter was some kind of scared stray dog, Flash reached around the back of the couch, pausing for a moment before sliding his arm down, around Peter's shoulders. They finished the movie. Peter still had no idea what it was about.   
"Hey." Flash leaned in, speaking lowly. It was dark outside by now, and the living room was shadowy and dim. "Are you hungry?"   
Peter's heart beat faster, from both the closeness of Flash's face to his own and the anxiety the question _are you hungry_ always brought, the raging inside his head. Yes, he was hungry, he was _starving_. He'd given the protein bars Mr. Stark hid in his bag to a homeless man after he left on Saturday. But he just - he'd looked so good that morning, all sharp lines and jutting hipbones and a flat stomach. He couldn't give up this progress. This was the skinniest he'd ever been. He couldn't do this, he couldn't eat, he just -   
"Peter?"   
"I'm not hungry." he said quickly, looking down at his lap.  
"Peter."   
Peter looked up guiltily.   
"You don't have to eat a lot. But I think you should eat something. Let's go to the kitchen. I'll make us dinner." Flash said firmly. 

"Hmmm. We could have pasta?"   
"I'd prefer something else if that's okay." Peter said quietly.   
"Umm..." Flash yanked open the fridge. "Eggs? Oh, we've also got, like, this tofu block."  
"You eat tofu?"  
"Yeah. I'm vegetarian." Flash said, pulling out the block. "I know it's more of a breakfast than a dinner, but I make a pretty fucking good tofu scramble?"   
He looked at Peter for confirmation.  
"That sounds, um, fine." Peter said. How did he not know that Flash was vegetarian?   
"How long have you been vegetarian?"   
"A couple years now." Flash sliced the tofu into cubes.  
"Why?" Peter asked.  
"You'll laugh at me." Flash said, snorting. Peter shook his head vehemently.  
"No!" he exclaimed. "I won't! I'm really curious. You don't, uh, seem like the type to be."   
"Alright, well," Flash sighed, "I just...freshman year, in Bio, we took a field trip to a beef farm."  
Peter frowned.   
"I was in that class, I don't remember -"  
"You had the flu." Flash said. The pan sizzled. "I remember being glad that you weren't there that day. That you didn't have to see it. It was...awful. The way they treated those cows..." Flash trailed off uncomfortably. Peter stared at him, wide-eyed.   
"I just couldn't stomach it. Their eyes were so sweet, and they had no idea that they were going to die. It made me sick." 

The tofu was, as promised, pretty fucking good. Peter ate some, and a piece of whole wheat toast. He even let himself put butter on it. Flash kissed his forehead softly when he took Peter's plate from him, leaving Peter bright red and burning.   
"Want to see my room?" Flash asked carefully as he rinsed their plates. Heat pooled in Peter's stomach, pleasant and tingly.   
"Um, yeah. Okay." 

_This bed is really soft,_ Peter thought as Flash pressed him into it, a solid, warm weight on top of him, their mouths slotted together neatly.   
Flash's knee pushed up between Peter's legs purposefully, and Peter - god, it was embarrassing - Peter whimpered into his mouth, high and humiliating.   
"Fuck, Pete," Flash groaned into his neck, "so cute, christ."   
He nipped and sucked his way down Peter's thin neck, one hand tangled in his hair and the other holding his jaw firmly, tilting his head up to give him easy access. Peter squirmed under him, a hand finding its way beneath Flash's shirt.   
"Um, off?" Peter gasped, tugging at the hem. Flash pulled back just long enough to yank his shirt off (and, fuck, there were no abs - it was something even better. Flash was toned, solid. He looked real.) before latching back onto Peter's neck, tugging at Peter's shirt collar and biting gently at his collarbone, knee still pushing up between his legs.  
Peter's hands explored Flash's chest and stomach, gripping his upper arms and running up his firm abdomen shyly.   
"Are you comfortable taking your shirt off?" Flash asked, eyes hooded.   
"N-nn, I'd, I'd rather not?" Peter stammered. "If that's okay?"   
Flash's gaze softened immediately.   
"Of course it's okay, Peter. You don't have to do anything. I want you to be comfortable, always."   
Peter surged forward, lips crashing into Flash's clumsily, a hand coming up to wrap around the back of his neck. Fuck, Flash was sweet. Flash was so fucking sweet, and kind, and good, and Peter wanted him more than anything.   
Flash pressed his hips more firmly into Peter's, hard and aching.   
"Fuck. Fuck, Pete, I've wanted you for ages, wanted to see you in my bed, all flushed like this, for _so long_."   
"Feels so good with you." Peter whispered. "I like you so fucking much."   
Flash's eyes were wide, cheeks flushed.  
"Yeah? So are we - does that mean -"  
"Yeah." Peter nodded, pulling him down for another kiss. 

"So." May started, staring Peter down from across the table. "Whose house were you at last night? Because I know it wasn't Ned's."   
"Um. Pass?"   
"Pass?"  
"I'm passing. On that question."  
"Peter, you - you can't _pass_ , this isn't math class." May said with a laugh, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. Right. This was supposed to be a serious talk.   
"I was just at a friend's."  
"Which friend?"  
"FlshThmpsn." Peter mumbled quickly, looking down.  
"Um, what? I don't speak mumble, sweetheart."   
"F-Flash? Thompson?"  
May's eyes widened.   
" _Oh._ "  
"What does 'oh' mean?"  
"Well, uh...a while ago when you and Ned were both sick, I think he came by to drop off your homework. He seemed pretty worried about you. Very sweet. And, well, when I thought about some of the things you've told me about him...I figured he had a little crush on you."   
Peter stared at her, wide-eyed.   
"And you didn't think to tell me? Seriously?"  
May smirked.   
"I wanted to let him shoot his shot."  
She leaned forward conspiratorially, fingers laced together.   
"So...have you got a boyfriend you need to introduce me to, Peter?"   
"I mean - well - um. Yes. I guess so." Peter said, face cherry red.   
"Invite him for dinner sometime soon, okay, honey?" May stood, grabbing her purse. "I have to go to work. Get to school on time."   
"You got it." Peter said, throwing up a dorky pair of finger guns.  
"And Peter?"   
May was slipping her shoes on by the front door, one hand braced on the wall.   
"Yeah?"  
"Please finish your breakfast. You only had a few bites. Love you, hun."   
The door closed and Peter stared down at his oatmeal, mouth dry. 

Flash met him by his locker that morning, his hair messy and falling into his eyes instead of gelled like it usually was.   
"Hey, Parker." he said, leaned up against the wall, grinning.   
"Oh. It's you." Peter said playfully, wrinkling his nose.   
"Har har. Very funny."   
Peter leaned forward like he was going to hug him, but stopped.   
"Um, can I...?"  
"Of course, dork. We're literally dating."   
"I didn't know if you wanted people at school to know or not."   
Flash rolled his eyes and tugged Peter into a hug, Peter's face buried in his chest. Peter wrapped his arms around him hesitantly, squeezing gently and breathing in Flash's clean, earthy scent. It was familiar.   
"Are you wearing Old Spice?" Peter snickered into his chest.   
"What? It's manly. And spicy."  
Peter snorted.   
"Hey." Flash said, leaning down to talk lowly into his ear. "You eat breakfast this morning?"  
Peter nodded.  
Flash let him go, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.   
"Good. I'm gonna go to first. I'll see you in third."   
"Bye."   
Peter smiled to himself as he walked to his first period english class. He only felt a little bit guilty for lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u liked my mostly-flash chapter. im sorry that ive only been writing flash its just so addictive

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on my phone in 30 mins so y'know it is what it is. Hope u enjoyed at least a little bit.
> 
> edit: i recently made a tumblr! ill write basically ANY prompt. gore, nsfw, angst, fluff, whatever. almost any pairing, almost any fandom. if i dont know the fandom ill learn about it. i just like writing and its nice to have a more casual place to post things!   
>  tumblr: myfavsaretrans


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